PENTHOUSE 521

fifteen | port ibiza at night

"Rocky road is your favorite ice cream flavor?" Blatant disbelief was laced in my question.

"It is," Niccolò replied prior to handing the vendor a twenty euro note. The sales clerk flashed him a grin before the register in front of him opened up with a ping, and another employee handed us our ice cream cups.

We started making our way down the cobbled streets of Port Ibiza with no destination in mind. Just enjoying one another's company and the current moment. The sea breeze as it blew against our skin, the ice creams in our hands, and the scenery of the bright pinks and oranges that painted the sky as sunset drew closer with each passing second.

It was pleasant. Tranquil.

But quiet never lasted long, or at least when you're with him.

Niccolò's eyes darted to the ice cream cup in my hand, chin pointing at it accusingly. "At least Rocky road isn't something as simplistic as mint-chocolate chip."

There he goes ruining the peace, and ouch.

I turned my attention to him. "It isn't vanilla, isn't it?" I challenged before taking another spoonful of ice cream. The cold mint and chocolate delicacy made my tastebuds dance. It was absolutely delicious.

"Which I'm glad about since there is nothing vanilla about me." He took a big spoonful finishing off his Rocky road.

I snorted, not missing how he highlighted the word 'vanilla.'

"How enlightening."

He just tipped his head before chucking his empty ice cream cup into a trashcan posted along the boulevard and slipping on a pair of Ray-Ban aviators.

I turned away from him, taking the lead as an idea of where to go popped into my head. He followed me on my heels, this time walking behind me. So obedient of him.

"Where are you going?" He called amusedly after a few moments of silence.

"You'll see, just follow. You're doing a good job so far." I couldn't help but grin at the sound of his scoff. Sometimes, he needed to be taken down a notch. Just a little.

I finally arrived at the dock's railway, scooping up the last bits of my ice cream with my plastic spoon. It was mostly melted, but I was determined to eat every last drop.

I tossed the cup and utensil into a trashcan before running my hands along the railway.

Cool metal met my fingertips as I leaned forward, letting the sea breeze hit my face. I closed my eyes, basking in my surroundings. The sound of the seagulls' wings flapping overhead, the wind gently passing by, blowing through my hair. All of it.

Port Ibiza was beautiful. It was one of the main reasons I was happiest to live on the island.

It had been my safe haven before I met Álvaro and even while we dated. How funny I had met him along these docks almost a year ago. He was working on one of his parent's boats. . . such a strange time now I look back at it.

Although, inevitably, the breakup made me want to stay away from the docks. Something about the bad vibes from the memories.

But today, I came here to get clarity and just be in peace, and now, since my ex was out of my life, I intended to take this place back for myself.